“So, you fucking every time you eat them with my daughter in you?”
“No, I am not, Crew. Of course, you would think that.” She laughed, shaking her head.
“Just because I eat oysters doesn’t mean they make me horny. Now, they do make me a little wet, but shit, lately, since I've been pregnant, I stay wet all day, every day anyhow. I wake up wet; I go to sleep wet. I have to wipe myself all day, every day.”
I stared at her for a second, fork paused in midair.
“You saying that shit makes me want to pack this food up”
She giggled, taking a sip of her drink.
“Well, you can want to fuck all you want, but the doctor put me on pelvic rest.”
“What the fuck is that? You're not supposed to walk or something?”
“No, dummy.” She rolled her eyes playfully.
“It means that I can’t fuck because baby girl wants to come out early. They said the moment I have a really big orgasm, she will slip right out, and she needs to bake a little longer.”
“Oh yeah?” I leaned back, smirking.
“Then it’s best you stay away from this dick. You know how I’m coming, and baby Jane Doe will be coming quick.”
“Yeah, I know.” She laughed softly, then looked down at her stomach. I don't know what it is, but her saying she's been like a waterpark below had me looking across this table just wishing that I could lick every part of her body. Pernelle was definitely a nigga type, and I saw that at that tournament earlier this year.
My gaze across the table at her was interrupted when my phone chimed with a text message.
Hov:We need to link up tonight at 10:30 at the safe warehouse.
Who knows what this meeting is about, but I’m not going to miss it. Whether it’s still bad blood between us or not, business is business, and I hope we can salvage at least that part of our relationship. It was worth me showing up to see.
2 hours later
Though Hov seemed pretty chill about the shit we went through and appreciative of me taking out Kairo, you still never know how the mind of an unhinged muhfucka works. Sometimes your mind can switch, and that’s coming from experience. I’ve been okay with some shit one day, and the next day I’ve slid through and killed up some people because I just couldn't get them trying me out of my head.
When I pulled up, I saw the cars of Hov, Bam, and Scotty lined up along the side of the building, like some luxury-car meet. This was probably one of the last hidden locations that we had left, and if this spot is found, then something is up on the inside of our crew.
I walked into the back door and had my hand on my back on my pistol up until I saw the three of them sitting in the middle of the warehouse, close to the only light above that was working, all handling a deck of cards.
Scotty spotted me coming into the warehouse first.
“You can chill and take your hand off your pistol, son. Nobody wants to do shit to you in here. We all family.”
Scotty called me out as he slammed a card down on the table.
“I’m never too chill. You know that chill can get you killed.”
I dapped each one of them up, but Hov never looked up from his cards to do the same, so I simply sat down across from them. Hov adjusted himself in his seat, then threw out four of a kind, which let me know these niggas had a poker game going on. Hov always took poker games serious even though we never played for real money. We made enough of that on thestreets, and we really didn’t believe in taking money from each other. Poker games were always about relaxing, brotherhood, conversations, and plotting. So, this meeting could be about a setup to kill me or to kill someone else. Or shit, it could just be a time to get the guys together.
“You want in on this next hand, Crew boy?” Bam asked.
“Yeah, throw me in.” I took off my oversized jacket.
After the cards were dealt, we all had small conversations as we had our turns at the table. Bam had just started telling us about a chicken wing recipe he came up with when Hov put all his cards down and then sat up in his chair, getting our attention with no words.
“I’m sure everyone in here has heard of the Quatar family, right?”
“Quatar, that’s them Arab cats from overseas that have family here slanging to their people in Flatbush and shit?”
